Blossom
by The Taloned Merlin
Summary: Sometimes, Lenalee isn't sure about her feelings.


Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.

* * *

**Blossom**

"They're called begonias."

She lifts her eyes from the showy, yellow flowers she is fondling and says, "I know that, but I didn't expect _you_ to." She expected him even less to walk up to her, stealthily and at random, and demonstrate his knowledge of botany, however extensive or narrow.

Her comment earns her an arched eyebrow, and she thinks it looks like the elegant, raised wing of a bird. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?" he asks, annoyed, and she finds his indignation quite funny. "Kanda, you really _aren't_ the smartest guy around," she replies with a giggle.

The boy before her frowns, and the sunlight that falls on his face deepens the shadows above his eyes. "Whatever," he mutters, and she is grateful that he has slipped back into his usual mood; she isn't used to a mild, talkative Kanda. But she is happy to have him around, either way.

When Kanda reaches over her shoulder and lightly flips the stem of one of the flowers so that it falls more gracefully, Lenalee feels quite aware of the way his lashes are turned fawn in the light; she catches the faint scent of lotus on his skin, and, instinctively, pats her hair down a bit.

He goes away without sparing her another glance, and she watches his ponytail stir with the breeze as he disappears off the balcony and into the building.

* * *

She is bruised and battered, and Allen is sporting a broken ankle and a fantastic purple eye. It is Kanda, who appears to be the least scratched up, who steps in front of them and faces the three remaining Akuma – one level two and two level ones.

"I'll take it from here," he says, drawing Mugen from its sheath at his hip. "You guys scatter." He is favouring his right leg, and Lenalee suspects he has trouble with his other knee. "You're being ridiculous," she declared. "Just let us fight with you. It will be much faste – "

Kanda turns round with a glare that could easily curdle new milk, and subtly flicks Mugen's tip in his teammates' direction. "I said I'll handle it," he interrupts, his voice low and cool, and for once even Allen relents, albeit reluctantly. The white-haired boy places a hand on Lenalee's shoulder. "Come on," he says, "I think we should leave things to Kanda for once, even though neither of us want to."

The level two suddenly leaps forth with an outstretched claw, and Kanda only just blocks its attack with his blade. "_Move it!_" he yells to them with great anger. "You're getting in the way!"

Allen pulls Lenalee away, but only she discerns the worry in the swordsman's tone, disguised as irascibility. "Or maybe I'm just imagining it?" she thinks to herself as she is hauled from the battle and into safety. Yes, that was certainly more likely.

But she didn't believe what was probable.

* * *

They are fighting over some trivial matter.

This is rare. Lenalee usually forgives Kanda's general rudeness, but he had insulted her brother in passing (however mildly) and she had told him to mind his tongue. The whole thing grows into a hot argument, both of them shouting barbs at each other, gesticulating wildly, and it ends with Lenalee crying and Kanda storming out of the corridor with a crimson face.

Later, Reever finds Lenalee leaning against the wall, sobbing quietly into her hand. When he asks her what happened she says, shaking with fury, "That bastard Kanda! I hope the next mission my brother assigns him tears him to pieces!"

"Lenalee!" says Reever, aghast. The pencil jammed behind his ear quivers a bit, as if fit on a spring.

She straightens, taking a deep, trembling breath. "I'm not sorry!" She wipes her face angrily with her sleeve, fights the urge to stamp her foot, and instead entertains the idea of kicking him in the face with her activated boot.

It helps a bit.

* * *

Three weeks later Allen knocks at her door and says, "You wanna meet Kanda?"

"He's back from his mission?" she asks somewhat sharply. "I'm kind of busy right now, actually." In truth she has not totally forgiven him for his words before. She has certainly calmed down, but a part of her heart still twitches with bitterness every time she thinks about their encounter.

Allen speaks tentatively. "You sure? He's hurt pretty bad..." He trails off, two lines creasing his brow. That he is anxious about Kanda's health is worrying enough. Lenalee stares at him for a moment, lips pursed. Her heart pounds frantically like a caged bird in her chest. Then she draws a hasty breath and rushes towards the medical wing, Allen in tow, both of them puffing.

Lenalee throws open the door to the infirmary, earning a chorus of _shushes_ from the medics, and almost immediately catches sight of Kanda, sitting on a bed by the deep windows, fresh bandages wrapped round his torso and neck, his hair all undone and plastered to his back and his throat, and all she can think is _ohGodohGodit'smyfault_ as she hurries towards him and flings her arms about his neck, as gently as she can.

And her lashes are wet with tears against his collarbone, and Kanda, _Kanda_, alive and whole, gingerly places his hands on her back, for whatever reason. Lenalee feels the rise and fall of his chest, the softness of his damp hair that brushes against her temple, and buries her face deeper against the crook of his neck as she imagines Headquarters without him. No Kanda sitting at the cafeteria, eating his soba, no Kanda standing a vigilant watch against enemies, no Kanda to run to for silent comfort when she's upset...

With a cracked voice she begs him never to leave. When she pulls away, his face holds an indifferent expression. But his eyes are averted, and she knows he feels guilty.

"Look what you did, Ba-Kanda!" comes Allen's irked tone. "You made her cry!"

* * *

Kanda is a difficult person. He gives a noncommittal grunt when Allen asks him how he's doing, resulting in the latter going red in the face and calling him a cold-blooded bastard. Lenalee had arrived just in time to push the two apart as they glared at each other, and thought she could have cut the air around them with a knife.

"Both of you, stop fighting!" she pleads wearily. She has had enough of their arguments, and doesn't even know why she bothers to try and stop them anymore. They behave like five-year-olds around each other, and apparently they don't want to change that. "Allen, leave him be. He's likely just tired."

When Kanda, as usual, walks stiffly away, Allen turns on her. "Why do you always defend him, Lenalee?" he asks, brows knitted in confusion and frustration. "I know he's your friend – don't ask me how; he's such a bitch, and I've never heard him speak a kind word – but I can't let you provide stupid excuses for him all the time." His eyes are narrowed, his nose wrinkled; Lenalee is slightly frightened of him now.

"I know he can be a total jerk, Allen," she says, desperation in her voice. "But...but I know that, underneath all that, he's a good guy. He cares about us..." Memories of him quietly consoling her, reassuring her, spring to her mind like evidence for a litigation. But Allen does not have these memories.

"Like Hell he does," returns Allen with incredulity. "Anyway," he continues, dropping the subject and forcefully replacing his frown with a grin, "let's go find Lavi and get something to eat. I'm starving."

Lenalee sighs with relief and thanks her stars for Allen's kind nature.

* * *

She brings him coffee on a cold morning, entering his room with scarcely a knock. He is sitting on the bed, in the middle of lacing his boots, and his hair tumbles loose over his slender shoulders. He casts her an annoyed look as she sets the tray on his bedside table.

"It's early. I thought coffee might give you a kick since you're leaving for a new mission."

He grunts briefly, and returns his attention to his boots. Lenalee turns her glance to the latticed window, through which sunlight is pouring, pale and clammy, onto the grey stone floor. Then she sweeps her eyes across the chamber. It is perfectly tidy, though he has few possessions to boast of, and the only thing that adds brightness to the room is a pink-rimmed lotus in a bell-jar that stands on a small, round table in a corner.

She turns to Kanda to ask him why he keeps a lotus in here, only to find that he is already looking at her. He shifts his gaze away quickly, though, and reaches for the hair-tie that is lying on his pillow. Lenalee says, "I'll do that for you. Your hair's a mess, anyway. I can comb it."

"No need," he says under his breath.

"I want to."

Kanda sighs deeply, but allows her to sit beside him and take his hair into her hands. She runs her fingers through the tresses to straighten them out, letting her digits brush against the white nape of his neck, elegant like a flower's stem. Deftly, she gathers his hair into a neat, high ponytail with the band, letting his two long bangs feather down by his cheeks. Kanda abruptly gets up and takes Mugen from its place by the cabinet, and begins to walk towards the door, ignoring the coffee.

As he advances past the bed Lenalee grasps his hand, making him stop. His fingers are warm, and callused from years of wielding a blade. "What?" he asks gruffly. Lenalee looks into his gleaming sable eyes, tries to work out the reason for the suppressed sorrow in them. She wonders what could have caused such sadness to bloom there.

At length, in a soft voice, she says, "Nothing," and lightly kisses the corner of his lips. Guardedly. Platonically. His scent surrounds her, pervades her nostrils, sinks into the fabric of her clothes. "Be safe, Kanda."


End file.
